Read Online My Brilliant Idea (And How It Caused My Downfall) by Stuart David - Free Book Online Page A

Jackdaw,” he said, with a big friendly smile on his face.
    â€œOh,” I said. “Hi, Drew.”
    â€œThanks for the friend request,” he told me. “I just thought I’d come and say hello. What’s up?”
    That again.
    â€œNot much,” I replied. Then something occurred to me. “I was over at Chris Yates’s last night,” I told him. “He showed me some paintings he’d made of you. Looked good.”
    Drew nodded. “Chris is a genius,” he said.
    â€œAnyway,” I went on, “Chris told me you were quite a cool guy, so I sent the request. Just on the spur of the moment. You can delete me if you want.”
    Drew shook his head. “No problem,” he said. “One of my friends said you were probably trying to scam me, though. He says you always do that kind of thing.”
    I gave him a little smile. “Your friend might be right,” I said. “I’m usually in at something or other. You should delete me to be on the safe side.”
    He laughed. “That’s funny,” he said. “What have you got now, Jackdaw?”
    â€œEnglish,” I told him. “Hands Anderson.”
    â€œI don’t get him,” Drew said. “I get Larkin. I’d better go. Arithmetic with Nelson. See you later.”
    Then he ran off, doing a strange little skipping-type run. He’s quite a small guy when you’re standing beside him. And pretty weird and boring. It doesn’t really compute that a little unnoticeable guy like that could lift Greensleeves to such a bonkers state of medieval passion, so much so that she might even throw back a lethal dose of the hemlock because he’s going out with another little third-year. I shook my head and checked the time on my phone. I was running pretty late for English now, and late is something you don’t want to be when you’ve got Hands Anderson. So I stuffed the phone into my pocket, forgetting about my text for the time being, and I made a sprint for it.
    Â 
    The stand-in I have in mind for Yatesy is my cousin Harry. I think he’ll do it, too. The only problem is, he hasn’t been talking to me for the past week or so. He hates me at the moment. I kept texting him all day, but he didn’t reply. At break times and between lessons I scoured the corridors and playground for him, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. I know if I can get hold of him, I can talk him round. The whole falling-out was based on a misunderstanding, anyway, and I know that once I have him face to face I can get him onboard with the scheme. But he’s a couple of years above me, and I don’t know his movements. By the last lesson of the day (French) I was checking my phone almost constantly, looking for my acceptance from Elsie and a reply from Harry.
    Eventually, Mrs. Peterson caught me at it and confiscated the phone till the end of the period. I felt pretty jumpy without it. By the time I got it back I was having major palpitations, and I turned it back on and checked up on things as quickly as I could. Still nothing. From either of them. So instead of going home, I decided to go straight round to Harry’s house, to see if I could sort things out.
    He lives in the new builds, over the bridge and down past the roundabout. I always have the feeling I’m walking into a toy town or something when I go down there. The houses don’t seem real to me. It’s kind of strange.
    I always forget which house is his at first as well—they all look exactly the same. But I finally find it and ring the bell, and it’s the lunatic who comes to the door: my uncle Ray.
    â€œJackdaw!” he shouts as soon as he sees me. “Get in, get in. I’m just burning some toast in the kitchen.”
    He looks a bit like a bull, my uncle Ray. A bull with a big, bushy mustache. I don’t know if you get bulls with mustaches. Probably not. It’s not a good look. He has